


Crave You

by rightmovement



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancer Derek, F/M, I don't really know how tags work, M/M, They're all in grade 12, but you should maybe read this, i wrote a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightmovement/pseuds/rightmovement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a dancer preparing for an audition to Juilliard. All the girls in school want him, some of the guys too, but not the one he wants.<br/>Stiles is determined to make the quiet dancer, Derek, notice him.<br/>Naturally nothing is ever done the easy way and Lydia is sighing at them all.<br/>This is a horrible description just read it okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bite Your Lip and Fake It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livthelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livthelion/gifts).



> Wow okay so this is my first fic and LOOK I DID A THING!  
> Please be nice and leave me comments with your thoughts or I'll assume you hate it and me.  
> Unbeta'd all mistakes are my own.  
> This is for my internet wife Livvvvyyyyyy (livthelion) go read her stuff she's my favourite.

Derek was in the zone. It was 6:30 in the morning and he’d been dancing since 5, leaping and stretching into strange beautiful shapes. 

“SHARPER! God, Derek, you won’t stand a chance if you don’t strengthen up your lines” Lydia critiqued.

Derek scowled at her, using her face as a spot point for his triple pirouette. 

“For fucks sake, Derek, SMILE!” she sighed as Derek came out of the spin to raise his leg impressively behind his head. 

“You know what?” Derek snapped as he put his foot back on the floor with more force then was all together required, “Maybe you should just dance it for me since you seem to have so many problems with one of the best run throughs I’ve had for this piece.” 

Lydia shifted her weight over to her left foot and frowned, Derek immediately took note of this change in expression and quickly back tracked 

“Lyds, I didn’t mean it. It’s just tha-” 

“Oh no, I get it. You want me to be nice, I can definitely do nice, it’s not like I haven’t been nice since I woke up at the asscrack of dawn to help you with your Juilliard audition when I need to study for my SATs” 

Derek’s cheeks burn, “honey” Lydia says taking Derek’s hand 

“I love your dancing- you know I do or else there was no way in hell I’d be here at 6:30 in the morning- but this piece just isn’t your best. You’re completely disconnected from it, you can’t see the fight in it. You’re not a very expressive person, Derek, you tend to hold everything inside; but when you dance, your inner self shines right through your moves. You need to tell THAT story, and show that person for them to really be impressed.” 

She patted him on the cheek before turning around and walking towards the exit “I have to head home and get ready for school, I’ll see you later. And don’t forget to shower, you smell like boy sweat” she called behind her exiting the room.

Derek blinked after her, standing stalk still in the middle of the gym. He let out a sigh wile turning to grab shrug into his hoodie and grab his gym bag and keys. 

All throughout the bike ride home Derek mulled over what Lydia had said. It wasn’t that he was unexpressive, he just found it hard to find the words to tell people how he felt about things. Movement was much easier, emotion translated much better through a dance then through speech. Lydia was right about the piece, he knew it deep down, but he couldn’t scrap the piece he put together painstakingly all summer vacation for his Juilliard audition. 

He’d spent hours figuring out his best executed and most impressive moves, arranging them for maximum fluidity. The piece was perfect. The piece had every single thing it needed- except a story. His routine was lacking the thing most vital to all contemporary dancers, emotion. It wasn’t borne of pain, or love, or any emotion at all. It was just a bunch of moves put together to look pretty. 

Just as Derek was approaching the narrow dirt road that led to his house a blue Jeep TJ rumbled past with a horrible grinding sound, it’s driver one very sleepy looking Stiles Stilinski on his way to a morning lacrosse practice. 

Derek sighed thinking about those brown eyes looking back at him and turned up his driveway. He put his bike on the rack in the garage and turned to look at the1968 Camaro SS with its engine removed, worn seats with small tears and faded, rusted black paint. 

“Don’t worry baby”, he said running his hand up the hood, “you’ll be taking me where that stupid bike does soon enough”.

He startled as the garage door opened and his older sister poked her head out, hair in a towel “If you’re done making weird sweet car love to your shitty beater you might wanna get in the shower before you’re late for class, Cora even left some hot water”. 

There was no hot water.

After taking a shower that rivaled the arctic ocean Derek dressed himself in a denim button up, black jeans, boots and of course, the black leather jacket his dad had given him a few years prior. 

He stomped downstairs where his mother smiled at him and put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. 

“How is your audition coming, honey?” she asked, sitting down. Derek just let out a long breath and put his head in his hands. “Sighing is not an acceptable response, mister” his mother laughs out while giving Derek a playful shove. 

Cora sits down at the table next to Laura and asks “what are you guys talking about?” to which Laura promptly replies “Derek won’t use his mouth words”  
“Derek has mouth words?”  
“rumor has it”  
Derek just growls at them before grabbing his bag off the floor, and heading to the garage to get his bike, breakfast left untouched. 

Derek couldn’t concentrate throughout his morning classes. All he could think about was what he was going to do about his audition piece.

Lydia sat down beside him in chemistry and tutted, checking her lipstick in a compact mirror.

“Why the long face?” 

Derek buried his face in his arms, “I have nothing to present for my Juilliard audition” he groans.

“Derek don’t be an ignoramus, whatever yo-” 

Whatever Derek was or wasn’t going to was promptly tuned out as Derek’s ears heard a familiar laugh coming down the hallway. 

“Derek, I’m trying to tell you something! Why aren’t you listening to- ohhhh” Lydia smirked knowingly as Stiles rounded the corner into the room, laughing about some funny moment during practice and gesticulating wildly. “You like him, don’t you” 

Derek turned to face her, expression mortified. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about” he stutters out. 

“Oh honey” Lydia coo’s “But you so do”.


	2. I'm Not Gonna Waste These Words (About a Girl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so SO sorry that it took me 2.5 months to post another chapter! First I got carried away with my other work (which you can totally go check out if you want, I swear I'm going to update that one soon /shameless plug), then my life kind of exploded and I'm not really sure when it'll calm down but I got inspired so here's another chapter which you can totally thank ijustreadthefics for me not abandoning this and you can give SUPER thanks to livthelion for gently reminding me that I needed to update this. No, seriously, give her thanks, and read her works because she's my favourite.

Let it be known by all that Stiles Stilinski was no friend to mornings in any way, shape, or form. In fact, anything before 10:00 didn’t even exist in his world. Late nights? Late nights and wikipedia were Stiles’ best buds, but mornings could go suck a fat one. 

 

It’s with that sentiment that Stiles fumbled himself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6:30 (in the _mourning_ ) and dragged himself - barely awake and certainly not fully online - to his Jeep to head to the first morning lacrosse practice of the year. 

 

Rumbling down Beacon Hills’ roads in the rising sun, watching it crest the hills and burn off the morning mist he persevered, blinking sleep from his eyes thinking on how maybe, just maybe, this year could be different than all those prior. 

 

It’s not that Stiles was unhappy with his life. Since making first line on the team in grade 10 his life had done a complete 180, shooting Stiles from geek and outcast with a plus one of the always loyal Scott McCall to Stiles Stilinski: kick ass lacrosse player, and funny guy extraordinaire with a plus every single girl within the entire school. 

 

Yes, the attention was nice; never let it be said that an amicable guy like Stiles never enjoyed a little attention of the female variety. But he couldn’t help but feel that something was just a little… off. 

 

You see, Stiles at one time harboured a _very_ well hidden (shut up Scott) crush on one fabulous, cunning, and terrifying Lydia Martin. He harboured it right up until the point he got exactly what he wanted at the end of season party held at the apple of his eye’s house where one fabulous, cunning, and terrifying Lydia Martin dragged him into her father’s study and laid a big ole kiss right on those charming Stilinski lips. 

 

The funny thing about getting exactly what you want, is that it very rarely turns out to be what you really wanted. 

 

Stiles tried to get into the kiss, he really did! This was _the_ Lydia Martin, strawberry blonde goddess and genius of the ages kissing him, Stiles Stilinski, just the way he imagined for almost a decade. It just wasn’t doing it for him though, those soft curves just didn’t get his blood pumping the way he always imagined they would; and her floral perfume was actually making him fight back a sneeze or three. 

 

But when recounting the experience to his best buddy after the party, he chalked the lack of passion up to the fact that about ten seconds into the kiss Lydia pulled back and whispered hotly into his ear “I’ve been waiting for you all night, Jackson” in a breathless, needy tone before promptly emptying the contents of her stomach all over her fathers desk and the back of Stiles’ shirt. Scott, didn’t even question it, vomit? Not cute. 

 

The experience, needless to say, left Stiles a little shaken. To be fair, anybody would be a bit nervous about getting back into the game of snagging a bed partner if their first foray into the world of virginity losing ended with regurgitated pink Vex all over their favourite flannel shirt. Though it did also make him one fabulous, cunning, terrifying, strawberry blonde genius richer in the best friend department. 

 

There’s just something about puking that brings people together. 

 

However, what really solidified the ‘there is something different about me’ train of thought that had been chugging along constantly through his mind since The Lydia Incident was his first ever girlfriend, Heather. 

 

Now Stiles is, by nature, an outgoing guy. He’s always been pretty forward with his affections (re: the crush of epic proportions on Lydia) and so of course he was pretty appreciative of those others like him who didn’t play games and try to hide how they really felt. It’s probably that forwardness that really attracted him to Heather in the first place. The way that she wasn’t afraid to say what was on her mind and take what she wanted from life. 

 

Also, to be fair, it was also the first time that Stiles was what someone wanted in life. Who was he to deny someone what they wanted, right? 

 

It went like this: Scott and Stiles were sitting in their usual booth at the local diner, with Stiles giving Scott one of his amazing pep talks to convince Scott to just FINALLY ask Allison out on a date (“Scott, I swear to every religion’s God if you don’t grow some balls and ask her out so I don’t have to sit here and listen to you wax poetic about her dimples for a second longer I will take this spoon and castrate you.”) when Heather walked up, looked Stiles in the eye and said “I’m going to be sitting in this booth at 6:00 tomorrow evening and you are going to be sitting across from me by 6:01. You will buy me curly fries, and you will like it, alright?”

 

Well, Stiles wasn’t about to argue with such impressive coercion and so he obviously went right along with it. What a pretty lady wants, a pretty lady shall receive and all of that. Which is how he began dating the oh so glamorous Heather. He was loving it, really, he was, up until about six weeks into their relationship when during a makeout session in the back seat of the Jeep she slid her hands down past his waistband and gripped onto a VERY flaccid Stiles Jr. 

 

So maybe he wasn’t loving it as much as he was trying to tell himself he was. 

 

Heather, being the subtle angel that she was just sighed and sat back, doing back up her bra and levelling a very confused Stiles with a flat look before calmly stating “Stiles, I don’t think this is going to work.” to which he spluttered back “n-no, I s-swear it’s not usually a problem. In fact, the problem is usually quite the opposite I-” “No, Stiles, I don’t think this is going to work because you’re a boy kisser.” 

 

Stiles gaped at that. He continued to gape like a gaping thing as she finished righting herself, placed a kiss on his very red cheek, and climbed out of the Jeep, tossing a casual “I’ll text you later, and don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” over her shoulder. 

As he came back to the present from his trip down memory lane he noticed that Derek Hale was riding down the road on his shitty bike and staring straight through the windscreen directly into his soul. The sight of such a perfect example of everything that is right in the world unnerved him just a little and his foot to slipped off the clutch causing the jeep to emit a truly horrifying grinding sound that immediately brought Stiles back to the task at hand. “Get it together, Stilinski” he muttered to himself, cheeks flushing bright red “he doesn’t even know who you are.”

 

\----

 

Stiles was walking toward chemistry with Scott and Isaac, laughing as Scott retold the story of Greenberg managing to somehow catch a ball from every single player on the team… in the face. It’s not that they enjoyed his pain, it’s just that they could all agree that they were glad it wasn’t them anymore. 

 

As they entered the room, Stiles turned to wave to Lydia, laugh stopping dead in his throat as she whispered something to Derek Hale. Derek Hale who was staring into Stiles’ soul for the second time that day with those mesmerizing eyes. 

 

“Come on, Stiles, get out of my way!” Scott whined, pushing him off to the side and rushing over to sit with Allison. 

 

“Er, sorry about that man” was all Stiles could muster, still staring into Derek’s eyes. 

 

He stood rooted to the spot before Isaac grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers to get a better grip so as to pull him over to their bench. When they sat down, he swivelled his stool to fix Stiles with a questioning look, their hands still clasped on the table, forgotten. 

 

“What was that about, man?” he inquired in a soft voice, shaking Stiles out of his thoughts of piercing what-colour-are-those-even eyes, and dark stubble. 

 

“What?” Stiles responded with a shake of his head, removing his hand from Isaac’s to pat him affectionately on the head “sorry, pup, I was just out of it for a second. One too many tackles this morning, I guess.” 

 

But when he turned back behind him to look at Derek again, the dark haired boy was scowling out the window while Lydia sat beside him fixing Stiles with a calculating gaze. 

 

“Uh, Lyds? Is there a reason you’re giving me that look? You know I don’t like that look. Last time you looked at me like that you switched out my body wash and not only did I smell like fruit, but I had hives for a week” Stiles nervously asked

 

Lydia just tsked, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a sly smile “never you mind, mortal. You’ll find out soon enough.” 

 

Stiles just buried his face in his hands with a groan. This was going to end terribly, he could tell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God, I really hope that was worth the RIDICULOUS wait I put you guys through for this.   
> Luckily, I now ACTUALLY have an idea of where I'd like this to go, so I'll try to never make you wait that long again. 
> 
> Chapter title taken from About a Girl by The Academy Is...


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